A New Dream
by spanishshipper
Summary: Rapunzel and Flynn have been married now for four years, but their marriage hasn't given them the bundles of joy they wished it to. This is the story of their sadness in loss of life and how they overcome it, through the pain of another.
1. Chapter 1

They were lying in bed, the only light in the room from the open balcony, moonbeams reflecting off of their silver and gold wedding bands. Rapunzel's hair was a hazelnut brown, the locks now down past her shoulders, long enough to cover her swollen breasts. Flynn's hand slowly brushed over her stomach, the bump there making him smile and lean over to kiss her once more. Their love making never felt so right than when he knew that it would result in a child. Their child. Rapunzel looked to him, her own fingers gently sliding through his hair before she kisses the tip of his nose and whispers, "Boy or girl?"

Flynn smiles, and bumps his forehead to hers. "Honey, it does not matter." His wife rolled her eyes, and shifted her body so it was pressed to him, awakening his nerves and reminding him why he had obeyed her wishes and waited until marriage. The lustful fire she had for him never seemed to go out, and something rekindled it whenever she saw the wedding rings on their left hands. "C'mon, Eugene. Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?" Flynn nuzzled his head into her neck as she shifted over top of him, straddling him and adjusting so he slid into her. He hissed a moan, groaning and shuddering, her name on his lips before she stopped moving.

"Eugeeeene…answer my question…" Flynn murmured something, beginning to move his hips and then feeling her strong thighs hold him there. "Girl. I think it's a girl, Rapunzel." "Me too." "I love you." "I love you too." Their hips began to move again, and then Flynn was lost in the bliss of his wife's body, moaning and shuddering. And for that one moment, everything was perfect.

And then that moment ended.

Rapunzel was screaming and no one could hear her. She was screaming, and when she opened her eyes, Flynn was above her, his hands bloody and moving to pick her up. She recognized that their bedspread, originally a sweet cream color with sprinkled cocoa, was no longer that color. There was blood everywhere, and somewhere deep inside her, she knew it was her own. Or rather, it was the blood of their third child.

Her stomach felt as though the child had grown nails and tried to claw itself out. Its life was extinguished now, but her insides were suffering from its existence. Her existence. Rapunzel realized in a slow way that maybe the nails of the previous children had left scars that this one used to guide her. She had cried so much that her face tasted permanently salty, and she had sobbed and cried and broken down to the point where the palace doctor had to prescribe a concoction of honey, milk, juice of many fruits and a relaxant to calm her down. Her throat would recover, if she drank it every day.

But the thought of food and drink made her remember that she was now only eating for herself. She was not eating for two at this point—it was just her, and that caused such deep anguish within her that she emptied her stomach of anything that might be classified as nourishment. She could not even look at Flynn, as he brushed her hair from her face while she puked and held her while she cried and cried. How could she do this to him? This was her fault. Her body had lost their child. Again. Her body did nothing but _kill children_.

Flynn was lost in everything he was feeling. They had tried everything at this point—Rapunzel took several potions a day, all designed to help her body hold and care for the children that inevitably died within her before she reached her third trimester. The doctor always said that her body had enough of the sun's magic in it that there should be no reason this is happening. The theory of a curse from Mother Gothel was always circulating, but no one knew. This was the third miscarriage, and the closest they had gotten to it. This was their fourth year of marriage, and he had wanted to mark it with a successful pregnancy and a bouncing baby to carry on the name Fitzherbert. Until he met Rapunzel, Flynn never had the desire to procreate, seeing as his upbringing was influenced by the orphanages. Sure, Rapunzel's family had reformed the orphan and foster system once Flynn's situation came to light but… now, he just wanted to see what this marriage, and the love within it, looked like in a tiny human.

But he had no one to speak with about this. He was so alone in this. How could he be this sad? He needed to be there for Rapunzel, for his wife, who had just lost her third child. He had never felt that baby kick within him, or been unable to sleep because there was a kid sitting on his bladder. His feet had stayed the same size, whereas hers had doubled and she had to wear slippers everywhere. Never did he vomit more than three times a day or been unable to lay on his back due to swollen milk glands. He had no idea what she was feeling, and only knew that he was childless. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was the reason this was happening. Maybe his sperm was imperfect, or infected with the thieving sins he had committed in the past. This was his fault.

The king and queen were devastated; they had not been able to raise their own daughter, and so the idea of a grandbaby, a little one in which they could bestow all of their love was addicting. The first miscarriage had been the hardest for them—and the queen could tell that the third would be the last for Rapunzel. Her daughter had lost all of the light in her eyes, and after the initial day of the bloody bed, only the queen was permitted in the bed chamber. Flynn slept on a couch outside the room, his eyes continuously bloodshot. It had been a week since he had seen Rapunzel, and the king tried to distract him as much as possible. "Come, Flynn, let's go hunting." "Up for fishing today, Flynn?" "Flynn, shall we go visit the orphanage today?"

Nothing helped. The love of Flynn and Rapunzel was healthy and strong, but it thrived on how obsessed they were with one another. They loved each other so much that being without her hurt Flynn to the core. No one had called him Eugene in a week. He only ate when he felt like he was on the edge of unconsciousness, and drank only wine. The alcohol kept him sane, kept him from throwing himself up against that door and screaming his wife's name until his esophagus bled. There was nothing that kept him more calm than wine. A close second was children. Children kept him calm—he understood children, and he loved to hear them laugh. He wanted children. But it was useless. Once again, he reveled in the fact that this was his fault.

Rapunzel had instructed the servants to bring her endless amounts of painting canvas, and her paints. However, her old paints were promptly set aside, in favor if a new set, made from ground up bone and dying leaves. The colors were dark, black, grey, brown and a maroon that reminded her of the color of the bedspread when her third child's death stained it. The only spot of yellow was in the flower that began the bottom of the paintings.

Every time, the flower that had caused her to grow her hair, to sing the song, to meet Flynn, to see the lanterns, and finally, to find a new dream…the flower started out at the bottom of the canvases, opened to beauty in the center, yellows and whites and a touch of purple showing the magic in it. Only the center held happiness. The petals grew withered and sad, without any magic left in them. The ends dripped blood. The rest of the painting was a swirling of depression-colored paint. In one, a mother cradled a maimed and dead baby. In the next, a man turned his back on a woman as she dug her nails into her bleeding neck. These things were not like Rapunzel, the girl who was afraid of ruffians and thugs. That girl had given way to this woman, filled with darkness and anger.

The halls of the Corona palace were without the happy whistling and duet-ing of Mr. and Mrs. Fitzherbert. They had not spoken in two weeks, three, a month. Rapunzel's birthday passed within that time, and she did not watch the lanterns released in her honors. Flynn saw them. He and the queen and king stood on the platform where they had all first met, and watched four lanterns fly into the air. One for Rapunzel, two for the little boys and one for the little girl.

It took Rapunzel two months of painting to stop painting, and another week before she opened the door to their marriage suit at four thirteen in the morning. Her feet were noiseless on the cold tile, her dress barely covering her ankles. She was wearing purple again, but this was a favorite of her husband's—it hugged her body when she was a normal weight. Now it hung off her. She had lost ten pounds in the last month, and she felt like a skeleton. Her eyes were wide when she saw Flynn curled up on that couch. She had no idea he was still out here, and suddenly she was hit with how selfish she was being. What kind of person was she, to deny her husband his wife in such a great time of need?

He moved, and groaned her name, causing her breath to catch in her throat. Surprised at the sudden motion, her throat protested, and she covered her mouth, silencing her coughing fit before brushing tears from her eyes. Yes, he needed her. She needed him as well. In his presence, she felt happier than she had since the death. It was the first time she felt happy since then.

But then she remembered, and touched her stomach. Her flat stomach. Her babyless stomach. Could he even still love her, after she murdered their three children and then ignored him for two and a half months? Her body was sickeningly small, her hair was chopped off just as it was when he took the mirror to it almost five years ago. She had grown older, and he had as well. But she wasn't his Rapunzel anymore.

She stood there, looking at her husband, shivering and wanting nothing but his arms around her. She was ready to be comforted, and to be taught once again how to live. She was not okay. He was not okay. But being not okay together was better than being not okay alone.

His eyes open, and she froze. It was four eighteen. He sat up, eyes wide as he looked her over. And then he started to cry. Tears littered the collar of his sleeping vest, and he stood as his tears fell. She was terrified, looking up at him with eyes that reminded him of the look he received that night beneath the lanterns, in that love boat. Flynn hiccupped then, and stumbled two steps towards her. She took one step, and could feel the warmth of his breath along the top of her head.

"Eugene…"

"I missed you, Rapunzel."

"I miss you too."

They went into the bedroom, and lay on opposite sides of the bed. Eventually Rapunzel fell asleep. Flynn fell asleep. Their fingers were touching.


	2. Chapter 2

The halls of the castle were still quiet, and there wasn't singing. But little giggles could be heard—Rapunzel's, as her and Flynn began to remember how to properly be together. She was still skinny as a clichéd stick, and there was very little about her that resembled original Rapunzel. The smile still did not touch her eyes, and her and Flynn had not done much more than hug and hold hands. He was her husband, but she was so repulsed by herself that the idea of being with him intimately made her feel sick to her stomach—for him. She wanted him desperately, wanted to feel his warm breath on her cheek and then his mouth on her neck, his fingers digging lustfully into her hips. But he didn't want her—she was a murderer, and thus deserved not those simple earthly pleasures.

Flynn spent his mornings at the orphanage, his lunches with Rapunzel, and the rest of the day was normally passed at the Snuggly Duckling. Flynn returned to his wife around midnight, seeing her a half pound heavier every few days, and her willingness to touch him grow. They had hugged in bed last night—this is not to be confused with cuddling. They hugged while they cried and then fell asleep. It was still void of true affection, but Flynn hoped to find something to jolt Rapunzel back to life. He had been working on a project at the Snuggly Duckling since the first pregnancy, and it still was not finished—but then again, carved furniture was hard to make.

On the second floor, overlooking the actual bar where he really began to fall in love with the girl with the glowing hair, were several rentable rooms that weren't always used for the best purposes by the inhabitants. The biggest room was permanently booked for Eugene Fitzherbert, and the boys without complaint brought him woods of a hundred different trees so he could experiment. He had made eight rocking chairs, three rocking horses, four changing tables, five night stands—but most importantly, he had made only two cradles.

One was the darkest wood he had been given, something that had no name in English but known in Giant as _ujklif. _It was told to have the ability to keep the person within safe. When made into a bed, it was supposed to ward off evil from being able to take the sleeper from it. He thought of Rapunzel and how he never wanted to have her feel the way her birth parents felt for eighteen years. The second was made of weirwood, an eerily white and bendy wood that was found in the trees around her old tower. The wood was springy, and the bottom of the cradle was almost trampoline-like in that he could see his baby boy standing, jumping lightly up and down and cooing _Dada _when he walked into the room every morning. Flynn bit back his grief and grabbed his whittling tools, along with a small piece of unused oak. Today he would socialize with the lovely patrons of the Snuggly Duckling. Occasionally he would sing with the men or gather the dresses that needed mending from the women—Rapunzel loved to sew for them.

Today was no different. Sitting at the bar, a half-whittled bird in his hands, a pint of beer close, Flynn was silent, but the people around him weren't. There were already four dresses in his bag that the women had given him, and he had turned down three duets. He liked to sing but without Rapunzel singing every day, the world just didn't seem quite right and so he kept his vocal chords quiet.

"What is that?" A small meek voice from behind him asked him, making him turn his head. Before him was the saddest creature he had ever seen. She was no more than five two, dirty-blond hair that was short and clearly unwashed. Her body was hardly existent, images of Rapunzel flying through his head as he overlooked this girl. He turns, lifting the bird so she could see. Gods, she couldn't be more than seventeen, maybe eighteen. As the wind came hissing through the open windows of the bar, she flinched and he started to explain.

"It's meant to be a hummingbird, when I finish it. It will be a whistle—you blow through a hole in his back, and it comes out the tiny hole in the front of his skinny little beak." The girl's hands reached for it, and Flynn noticed the burn marks on the back of her hands. _Orphan, _he thought. In the winter, the nuns heated their rulers to keep their own hands warm—but then when they hit the back of the children's hands, it left a terribly painful burn, which then scarred. She saw him looking, and quickly pulled her fingers back, resting them together on her chest.

"That's really amazing. Can I…can I sit and watch?"

"Of course you can. Hey, Vlad, can I get a cup of hot cider for the young lady?"

The bartender chuckled and nodded, sliding it down the surface until the girl caught it with sudden reflexes. She was smart, Flynn realized. And quick. She was a thief, just like he had been, and she was trying to con him into giving her more and more. But it wasn't a con if Flynn genuinely wanted to help her. Flynn began to whittle again, focusing on the actual hole now, slowly twisting his fingers so the end of the knife would gently press through the wood within without destroying the carved head of the bird. The girl just rested her head on the bar, watching his fingers and then watching his hands.

He had burns just like her, and calluses that resembled hers—from years of climbing along roofs, scaling trees and sliding down ropes at high speeds. He had lived a hard life but now he was happy—but what was his current occupation?

"I don't work." His sudden voice started her, making her inhale quickly and then cough.

"How did you—"

"I used to case people too, and whatever occupation I have determines how much money I have and also how gullible I am. I don't work. My wife and I… well, we don't have to work. But because of my past, I am not easily tricked." The girl squinted at him, trying to see through this mask of his and realizing he was serious then. She nodded, embarrassed now before he rolls his eyes, slowly chipping the tail and little feathers into the hummingbird.

"Tell me your story, kid." And so she did.

They called her Mel, because her name was Melody or Melanie or Melissa but the orphanage had lost her records before she grew old enough to care. Everyone in the thieving industry called her Mel. The orphanage had been awful to grow up in, but what was new about that? Kids that parents don't want go there, and therefore, the kids that go there don't matter. She had a best friend, named Hal and he was the only person she loved. There was nothing about him that scared her—they had known each other since the crib, and so this tall two hundred pound muscular man with fighting scars was just her teddy bear.

Until he started to drink. The alcohol changed him—he started to make fun of her, and hit her when he would stumble into their hovel of an apartment night after night. Every morning, she would cry, and they would hug, and he would apologize, and then give her the money he was saving up for beer. He always stole enough during the day to double that, so it was all a farce. But it was a play she acted out every day, convinced each sunrise that things would be different and broken to see the opposite at sunset.

It was her eighteenth birthday, and she had stolen three cakes from the best bakeries in the kingdom for the party she was throwing. Finally, legal at last! She was no longer the baby, and she could get drunk if she wanted to, and she was now able to find a real job. Maybe she wouldn't have to steal anymore after these cakes.

There was a giant thief layer busted, thousands of lost goods found again in the filth hotel on the very outskirts of Corona City. All of her friends were hauled in, and so Mel spent her eighteenth birthday arguing with knights and officials, explaining why these things were in Hal's possession and of course, officer, I will keep a good eye on my husband. It was a cover they used often, and the men of the Kingsguard liked her, so they both got away scotch-free.

When they returned home, Mel was crying, and Hal was drunk. Nothing new to the latter, but this time, Hal threw all three of the cakes across the room. He was screaming at Mel, and it was the first time Mel saw him cry. Fed up with his life, he yelled, and then Mel was against a wall, overpowered by the strength of her best friend. His wet, beer-flavored lips were on hers, and then a flash of lightning and she was naked. He pushed in with a moan of her name, and she cried and hit and struggled as he raped her.

He left her there, whimpering as he cleared out, leaving everything of hers behind, but taking her virginity with him.

Flynn was holding her hand now, as she looked down at her feet—and then her stomach.

"And mister, I haven't bled in two and a half months. I believe myself with child."

It was the first time Flynn had heard the c-word since the miscarriage, and it hit him like the bar had as he flew through that canyon on Rapunzel's hair. He could feel his throat thickening, eyes watering, and he glanced away for a second before he coughed a few times and looked back at Mel. She continued, so lost in her own thoughts that she seemed to forget who was listening. Or that she was even speaking aloud.

"I don't even have the money to pay to have it magicked away. This child will be borne and then reared just like I was: an unwanted orphan who grows into a good-for-nothing thief."

Flynn let his eyes land on her stomach; oh yes, there was something in there that was not just cider and bread. Her body was swelling to sustain the life of a child, and she wanted to kill his baby again. She wanted to clear her body of it, he quickly corrected himself. In there was a child who had been conceived almost to the day of the loss of his third. Until properly born, souls could switch between bodies, couldn't they? He would have to ask the priest.

Mel was shivering, crying and confused as she watched Flynn's face change with his every thought. He finally looked up, and said,

"Do you know who Flynn Rider is?"


	3. Chapter 3

Mel knew all about Flynn Rider. Same orphanage, same upbringing, same story as her but without the rape and the terrible ending. He was happy. He lived in a castle with the love of his life. And here she was, tossing her cookies every morning for a child she did not want. Two and a half months along, and she was conning people every day to get food in her belly. There was nothing to make her happy here.

Flynn and Mel talked for hours, and he spoke to her as the only person in his life. Rapunzel had told him on the last night of their honeymoon that when he talked to her, she felt like the center of his universe. Flynn possessed the charming characteristic of focusing his attention entirely on the conversation, forgetting where he was and really just engaging into every sentence. Mel felt like that now, and was amazed at how quickly he felt comfortable around this man she had just met.

Three kids he had lost, and now his wife as well.

Mel had lost a lot in her life, but somehow her heart reached out for Flynn and his hardship in this. Everyone has a scale of suffering, and just because her scale included starvation and exposure did not make his scale of child loss and marital instability any less painful.

She said this. And Flynn began to cry as he described the first time Rapunzel told him they were going to be parents.

It was six months past their wedding date, and nearly every morning she would kiss down his neck and nibble at his skin. But this morning he woke up with the sun blinding him and with no newlywed in his arms. He sat up, rubbing his eyes as he called her name, quietly, still coughing the sleepy out of his voice before he sees her. God, she looked beautiful, her brown hair still shortened but knotty and cute from here on his bed, blinking in the sunlight but also holding something in her hand. It was one of the charms that could be bought at the market, glowing purple if indeed a child had been wrought, or yellow if there was nothing for which to be excited. His wife smiled at him, moving to sit on the bed, knees touching his knees as she opens her palms. In it was a small light, pulsing with a purple aura, and Flynn's eyes opened wide. Unbelievable! Rapunzel saw his face slowly turn from shock to awe to a true and encompassing happiness. She squealed, placing the charm on a pillow, and wrapping her arms around his neck. His arms took her into his warmth, and they both began to cry.

The ten weeks with that first child was incredible, full of love making and sweet dreaming of what they would do, where the baby would sleep, and the night before they lost him, they whispered all of the names they liked to one another.

The next morning, Rapunzel ran to the bathroom with morning sickness, and came out shuddering, her hands covered in blood.

Flynn was openly crying now, and Mel began to think. He was so desperate, without his love and without his baby, without anything to distract him from his grief. His wife was gone for now, though she was slowly returning- but he had expressed to Mel his deepest fear, that the stress of all of this had ruined his Rapunzel. There was nothing in the world he loved more than that woman.

A baby could save them.

Mel had a baby.

Well, not a baby. There was something within her that had the potential to fix this. And yes, this child was out of something terrible, but brought into such a home, filled with such hope and love... no matter what way the child was conceived, Mel knew that it would be loved the moment it exited her body and entered the arms of one Flynn Rider.

"Flynn. Take it."

"What?"

"Take it. Take my baby. I want you and Rapunzel to have my baby."

Flynn choked on his water, looking to Mel with watering eyes.

"I...that's...so nice...but...Mel, I...we aren't...I don't know if we are ready. I have to talk to R-rapunzel."

"Talk to Rapunzel then."

Flynn gave the Snuggly Duckling owner several gold crowns to keep Mel up in the nicest room available, and hugged her.

This woman might be the answer to his marriage's problems.

"Rapunzel! Rapunzel!" Flynn was running through the castle, a smile on his face as he looks for his wife, calling her name until she finally peeked her head out from a room close to their quarters. He grabbed her tightly, and they spun, Rapunzel actually gasping and giggled with joy. For a moment, there was light in her eyes and there was nothing more inspiring than that look. Unbelievable, the sudden arousal Flynn felt in seeing those big eyes shine with happiness. He kissed her deeply, and she melted in his arms, before he pulled away and whispered,

"I missed you all day." "I missed you too, Eugene. Very much." "I have something to talk to you about. It's...an opportunity for us to be happy again. Like we planned the first three times. But it's...different."

Rapunzel's brow furrowed as she heard this, and a hand went to touch his cheek. "Flynn, I don't think I can take another...another..." She then lost control, pressing her face to the tanned leather of his vest and letting go. Her body shook, and he caught her as she collapsed, completely without any strength now. The doctors had called it a form of posttraumatic stress disorder. Her body was refusing to accept any form of reality that was not artificially happy. She could not handle another pregnancy, or another child loss.

Flynn carried her back to the room, slowly explaining to her everything he had discovered during the day. When she heard Mel's story, she realized how opposite but so perfectly their situations fit together, looking up at Flynn, her husband, her first and only love... He was the reason she had escaped from her controlled life of false happiness and found her true family.

And now maybe she could have her own family; Flynn, her, the baby...and Mel too.

"Can I meet her, Eugene?"

"Of course, Rapunzel. We will go and see her in the morning."


	4. Chapter 4

Rapunzel had woken up that morning filled with hope and happiness. Yes, her body had killed her children- but something greater than her had replaced that small human being into the body of Mel, and so meeting Mel meant meeting her child and meeting her future.

Rapunzel had her hopes up for someone a bit more...fairytale like, but there was nothing about Mel with which the Princess of Corona could find a problem. Eugene had told her every thing he knew about her, and Rapunzel had asked millions of questions of her own, sheltered under Eugene's warm arm.

The meeting itself ended as they all knew it would; Rapunzel wanted that baby, Mel wanted to give it to them, and so they agreed to provide Mel with everything she could possibily need. The married couple gave her a room in their quarters, and the King and Queen adopted the once-hoodlum into their family. After all, theives were not exactly a surprise to them at this point. Rapunzel attracted them.

The first day it became very real was the day Mel felt the baby kick her.

For three months now she had been living beneath the palace roof, gaining weight that was very much needed and being treated like another princess. She had woken up to birds chirping to the tune Rapunzel was humming as she decorated the nursery. Her body was thicker and healthier than it had ever been in her life, and so she stretched and felt everything awaken with a smile. The sheets were soft, her mind was relaxed and she was finally in a place where she felt happy.

And then something sent an odd pointed pushing sensation through her abdomen, causing her to gasp and clutch her belly. It was already swelling, and she was getting to the point where she could only see her toes when she looked straight down. She was five months along, and so she was starting to get bigger and bigger, half of that actual weight and half of it her uterus expanding and creating a human being.

A human being that had just _kicked_ her.

"Rapunzel! Rapunzel!" Mel scrambled out of bed, grabbing a fluffy robe to cover up her arms and back before running to the room next door. The brunette came running, and almost collided with her little surrogate, before Mel grabbed her by the shoulders.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I am okay, the baby is okay, but feel it, feel it!"

Mel was panting as she grabbed Rapunzel's hand, resting it on her stomach, the robe having been pushed aside in the excitement. The baby kicked again, and Rapunzel dropped to her knees, seeming to forget that she was now pressing her cheek to Mel's stomach, hearing the baby's heartbeat and then feeling the kicks and shivering. Those big green eyes looked up at Mel filled with tears, and Rapunzel stood up, moving to hug Mel in one of the furious hugs for which she was famous.

Mel had a family now, and it consisted of the royalty of Corona. She was growing the continuation of that family within her, and that baby would be the thing to seal the deal. She would never have to eat from the garbage again, especially after the birth. Never again would she have to worry about her existence after the birth.

At six months along, she could not see her feet and the baby was keeping her up to all hours with its incessant kicking. This meant that Rapunzel had declared a girls' quarters in which they both slept every night. The older brunette fussed around Mel like-well, like a mother over her child. All of the books said that she was far too big for the week she was in, and what could that mean but that Rapunzel was really meant not to have children, because there had to be something wrong, right? Flynn comforted his wife before she went to bed every night, because she was not sleeping much, consumed with worry about Mel and worry about the baby and worry about the future of the Fitzherbert family.

The kicking had gotten worse because there were three pairs of legs kicking at the inside of Mel. It was triplets.

Rapunzel fainted when the doctor told her. Flynn picked her up, tears in his eyes as he thanked the doctor profusely, kissed the top of Mel's head and carried his wife to their bedroom. A servant stayed with her as he hurried back to the pregnant woman's side, who had just been informed that she was not allowed to leave a bed save for using the bathroom for the next three months.

For a girl who had lived her entire life under a leaky roof or in a drafty room, there was nothing that sounded more sweet.

Bed rest ended up being the most nerve-wracking experience of her life. She could only sleep on her side, but the babies would shift halfway through the night and so cause her to be one-side heavy, making it very hard to get up in the morning. She grew chubby, unable to move, but she grew increasingly skillful. She learned to knit and crotchet, sew and embroider, then Flynn spent a full month teaching her how to whittle. She practiced for an hour every day after that, finally able to make four little wooden creatures- two girls and two boys. She was not quite sure how many girls versus how many boys were growing with her, because Rapunzel had asked it to be a secret. And so, as Rapunzel's children grew within her, she decided to make enough so that they could pick and choose which were correct, in the end.

The nursery was flourishing in varying shades of maroon, brown, and grey, all of the colors coming together to make the warmest nursery in which Mel had ever step foot. Flynn had moved his two cribs into the proper place and had a third one completed in no time. It was a perfect combination of the two, a crib made of pandeemia wood, the same lines drawn in the wood as in the other two, but the wood a perfect marble blend of the deepest brown and the sweetest of white. Each one had a father's love in its crafting, and so it was perfect. Mel had only seen photos- Rapunzel would not even allow her the fifteen step walk from here to the nursery.

When her ninth month came about, every step hurt. Her feet swelled to the point of no return, and two of the Snuggly Duckling men had to carry her from her room, now cluttered with all sorts of mindless crafts, to the delivery suite, a bed with an on-call doctor sleeping in the next room, with all of the medical supplies ever imagined. She slept there until she awoke one morning to the feeling of being torn into shreds from her stomach up.

There was blood everywhere, and somewhere deep inside her, she knew it was her own.


	5. Chapter 5

They held the infants, the two boys mewling and crying in Rapunzel's arms, the little girl crying but also comforted by the warmth of Flynn's. Both of the parents were scared. The doctors had delivered the triplets without harm to them, despite the terrifying way that they had come into the world, covered in blood that was not theirs, but also was not intended to be there.

The doctor had never seen anything like what happened to their birth mother.

Mel had woken up with her head swimming, her abdomen afire, and blood leaking from between her legs. It hurt more than anything else she had ever felt and that in and of itself told her that something was wrong. The doctor was there in a heartbeat, then two nurses started to clean up the blood, the doctor gave her water to drink and a bit of bread. What the hell was this supposed to do? Oh. The drugs were in the bread, she could see the hole where the magic would have been infused. She ate it quickly, and then felt like the little bodies within her were fighting with machetes to get out.

There was no way for her to give birth to these three babies; she was too weak now from losing that much blood so prematurely, and had fallen into a coma. Her labor continued, but without real pushing from her, her body trying to get the babies out but blocked by lack of strength.

They had to cut her open, and with all the magic in the world, it was still the most dangerous surgery for both mother and child. Rapunzel and Flynn were screaming their worry, trying to get someone, anyone, to tell them what had happened and what was happening to their friend and their babies, their babies. They had lost three, and could not afford to lose these three as well. Their marriage would not last, their sanity would not last, nothing would continue on happily. Their lives depended on the life of these three children.

When the doctor opened Mel up, the nurse screamed.

Instead of her uterus holding the three infants securely, within the last ten hours of labor, the uterus had shrunk to suffocate the lives within it. The doctor could see the outline of one child's face in the constricting flesh that was supposed to allow it to flourish and live.

The scalpel ripped through that skin, in a straight but stressful line, the flesh parting and then turning a sickening brown and black color. There was dark magic here, and so they focused on the task at hand; the doctor removed all three babies, two boys, one girl, and had the nurses take them to clean them off and show their parents.

Now the doctor switched modes, biting his lip as he looked at the shriveled up remnants of Mel's uterus. There was no saving it at this point, and so he began to cut around the blackened bits of flesh, sadly realizing that she would never be able to have children of her own. A nurse came in and started to assist him, cleaning the general area and making sure that everything remained safe and sterile. They finished the hysterectomy, the girl considered barren now but alive.

And then that moment ended.

The blackness that had taken root in her now-extracted uterus, it found another spot within her ovaries and started to bloom. It overtook every bit of organ the doctor could see from that incision, and spread from spot to spot, through the veins in her stomach, up to her heart, and she convulsed then. Her back rose off of the table for just a second, and then she fell back to the surface, the veins in her arms visibly dark and she was dead.

Rapunzel was bawling, hitting the glass of the observation room, and the nurses had taken away her boys moments before because she was in hysterics. The guards at the door were there to make sure that Rapunzel did not contaminate the operation room but Mel was dead, she was dead, what does it MATTER.

Rapunzel pushed past them, unable to see anything through her angergriefsorrowtears, as she rushed to the side of the person who had brought life to her dreams, who would have been known as Auntie Mel, who had revolutionized everything that Rapunzel had ever thought of in the way of the word family. There was nothing left of that idea, now Rapunzel was a mother of three and Mel was nothing.

Her hand touched Mel's, amazed at how cold it was already and then a darkness, a projected shadow, came out of the hole that her children had as well. Its tendrils rose into the air, translucent but still terrifying as they spread, fattening and forming something Rapunzel had seen only once before.

It was the drop of sun flower, the same that had formed when she had saved Flynn, but it was pure evil, overtaking the area right above Mel's stomach with a sickeningly fluid cloud of trepidation and anger. It flared out, and Rapunzel stumbled back into a tray of medical instruments to prevent it from touching her. The room darkened as a single verse from her deceased adoptive mother's voice rang out. _Those who carry the souls of the offspring of the sunflower will die_.

Mel was dead because she carried the children meant to continue the Fitzherbert name. Rapunzel's body had not been killing the children- the little magic left in her body was protecting her from the curse that had been the end of Mel. She had lost those children because had she carried them to full term, the Princess of Corona would have died.

And now Mel was gone, and it was all her fault.

When he heard the news, Flynn did not cry. He somehow had known that having his two sons and a daughter, and the world's most perfect wife, and then also a best friend who had helped bring this dream into reality was too much. The babies had been taken to the nursery, and it was there he could be found, taking turns between each baby, reaching down to brush their bellies or kissing their forehead.

Mel was dead and that was awful.

But there were three lives here that needed him now, as Rapunzel mourned their birth mother, and he intended to do right by these little extensions of himself.

**Author's Note: I know I promised a happy ending. I have one more chapter to go, so I apologize for any feels I may have caused. Those who follow this story and review this story have been such a huge help to me, and I have been so blessed in having all of you read my work. I really appreciate it, and I will never forget my faithful Tangled fans 3**


	6. Epilogue

TEN MONTHS LATER:

It was three in the morning and there was nothing Flynn wanted to do more than sleep. But Melody started screaming, and so Dash and Sebastian joined into her high pitched chorus. Rapunzel groaned, leaning over to kiss her husband deeply. His hand moved to her lower back, pulling her tight against him before she laughed tiredly and shook her head.

"C'mon, I'll take two this time."

Most nights had been like this for the last ten months. The new parents would take turns on who would take two of the three triplets, always coming into the nursery with a sweet smile on their faces, picking up the babies and soothing them. Recently, the babies had started to sleep for longer periods of time, provided they were entertained to exhaustion every day. Secretly, the married couple both had their favorites for different reasons.

Dash was their favorite to comfort, because he would actually start chuckling after he stopped crying, and snuggle up to whoever was holding him. Dash was the first to spend the night in his parents' bed. He was the most advanced speech-wise, having already said Ma, Da, 'bastian, no, yes, food, bye bye, and Mel. His big green eyes would light up under his shaggy black hair and cause his mother to fall deeper in love with him with every bat of those long eyelashes.

Sebastian was the best to play with, because he was the quickest. He had only said Ma and Da so far, but he could solve a puzzle meant for someone quadruple his age. He loved memory games and games like Go Fish, and even understood the basics of checkers- provided that the checker pieces were blocks his hands could feel and understand. His blue eyes would catch onto something new, and he would rush to investigate it, his dirty blond hair falling into his sight. In his excitement, he tripped often. If he did not understand something, or he lost, he did not cry and throw a tantrum. He grabbed his father's hand, and moved it to a certain card, hitting it gently twice as if to say, teach me. Flynn had a theory that the boy was born with a natural ability to understand all languages, no matter English or Italian or anything for that matter.

Melody, however, was the best one to go out with. She acted like a true lady, even at ten months old, and sat in her carriage without a fuss as people came up to her and played peek-a-boo or cooed at her. She did not cry when they went to the theatre, or when they ate in a restaurant. She also was the most musical, humming the Flower Song under her breath. Rapunzel sang it to them every night before bed, and so the little girl had caught on and knew the tune through and through. The kids loved to snuggle up to their mother as she sang the song she was raised on- Flynn would sing harmony, an arm around his wife as their children, and then they were okay.

At the beginning, Rapunzel and Flynn only spoke in the presence of the children, to maintain a sense of normalcy. When the babies were sleeping, they did nothing but cry in each other's arms. Their idea of an extended family with Mel had been destroyed and there was nothing to stop it. Rapunzel cleansed herself of any curse by burning her tower. Flynn had a priest cleanse him through a few prayers that he really didn't think worked- but it made Rapunzel feel better, and anything for his frustrating Blondie.

Everything made them sad, and there was very little other than the children that could fix that. Even the children reminded them of Mel because how could they not? They were her flesh and blood and there was nothing that made them stop feeling the love they had for that poor dead girl. But then there was the day when all three of the babies seemed to realize what was happening to their parents and so they all laughed.

The three children brought into the world by the death of Flynn's best friend looked to their parents at three in the morning and started to laugh.

Somehow the Fitzherberts knew that Mel was okay. Their children had healed them with laughing as Mel had healed them with her life.

"Mommy!" Melody saw her mother first of the triplets, and ran giggling down the hallway, her yellow hair reminiscent of Rapunzel's before it was cut. She jumped up into her mom's arms, the four year old laughing as she spun him.

"Good morning, honey!"

"Mommy!"

"Ma!"

The two boys followed suit, hugging Rapunzel's legs and the three of them all laughing as Rapunzel falls to her knees. They started to tell their mom all about their days, Dash pulling on Rapunzel's hair, Sebastian kissing her cheek, and Melody humming a song the Uncles had taught her at one of the weekly visits to the Snuggly Duckling.

Rapunzel scooped all of them up, balancing them in an expert way as she went to their playroom- it was once their nursery, but now the boys had their own tiny room with a bunkbed. A door connected it to the tiny room that Melody had, and they barely spent any time in there. They did nothing but play in their old nursery or their parents' bed. Nothing was sad in their wing of the castle, especially on such a day as today.

It was the triplets' birthday, and the whole kingdom was rejoicing. All over the land there were vendors selling paper children all attached, three boys and a girl. The fabric with the royal family- including Mel- embroidered in it sold off the racks like no other. And once night fell, everyone gathered in the royal courtyard, pushing and laughing each other as the king and queen and princess and prince consort walked onto the balcony. A single lantern floated, and the three royal grandchildren ran around it. The kingdom laughed with them.

The lantern was lifted into the sky, and behind it, a trail of paper children followed it. Two boys, one girl. And at the very end, a woman, looking up at the children.

Thousands of lanterns followed suit, Mel and the royal children flying above all in the thousands.


End file.
